


Holland Vosijk Attends a Party

by itsalwaystheapocalypse



Series: Something Nice for Holland Vosijk [1]
Category: Shades of Magic - V. E. Schwab
Genre: M/M, Pre-Canon, absurdly cute, alucard emery makes an appearance, holland fails at ladies, holland vosijk has no game, kell is always cranky, kell is cranky, rhy as world's best wingman, rhy as world's worst wingman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 19:48:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19979530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsalwaystheapocalypse/pseuds/itsalwaystheapocalypse
Summary: Part of a challenge to write 'something nice' for Holland Vosijk. Because he's Holland, things go... something awry. Also, Rhy is the world's worst or best wingman, depending on whether or not you're Kell. Alucard Emery makes an appearance.Set pre-ADSOMOne of three 'Something Nice for Holland' One-Shots.





	Holland Vosijk Attends a Party

They were a flock. No… a swarm.

Holland stared with dismay at the crowd of nobility in the grand ballroom of the Maresh palace, even this gigantic open space seemingly crammed with everyone that had half a drop of noble blood in the whole damn empire. 

Why was he here?

Right.

He’d been invited.

He’d been invited for the prince’s birthing day celebration, and there was literally nothing he’d rather be doing less than this, so of course the Danes had insisted on it. They claimed they wanted him to spy and bring back information, but Astrid had smiled when she saw him off in a way that made him think she just enjoyed watching Holland uncomfortably shifting his weight from foot to foot in the outfit they’d put him in.

“Remember,” She’d said softy as he kissed her hand with mechanical obedience, “This is a test. Tell me everything you see the Maresh family doing tonight.”

A trial run. A test. And no one need ever be the wiser. 

He hoped that her test would fail, and she would see nothing, because he looked ridiculous and felt even worse.

He was out of fashion compared to the bright and colorful styles of everyone around him, but how could he be _in_ fashion? He’d never worn their kinds of clothing before, and he hadn’t cared all that much about clothing in the first place. Astrid had chosen for him a deep black, high-necked, long-sleeved shirt with a notch at the neck and matching black pants. Daggers had been embroidered into each side of the collar of his shirt, along with a design that seemed like vines. Silver thread was also woven in, here and there, in the fabric itself. It gave every step he made the slightest hint of a glimmer under the lights. Astrid had even insisted he… do something to his hair.

So he’d done the only thing he knew how to do and combed it.

He looked like a well-dressed wraith compared to all these flushed, healthy, happy people, and he hated every single one of them for it.

Except for the woman by the column in the corner. Holland did not hate her.

He’d been watching her for a while. She looked bored, and sort of unhappy, and scowled in a way he found familiar and sort of distressingly amusing. Her black hair was braided down her back and she wore a deep red dress that set off her dark skin, but other than that, she was noticeably less… shiny… than everyone else.

She was also beautiful.

“You’re staring,” A cheerful warm voice said to his left, and Holland nearly fell over onto the floor with surprise. “Oh, sorry, I thought you knew I was there,” the prince of the Maresh empire said quickly, grabbing him by one arm to keep him standing. “Most people see me coming, you know.”

“Right,” Holland said uncomfortably, shifting slightly away. Rhy did not let go of his arm. His eyes were already sparkling with wine and the joy of the evening, his hair was tousled in a way that suggested someone else had been touching it, and Holland considered just punching him and getting himself thrown into prison to get out of this incredibly awkward moment entirely. “I was-”

“Distracted, I know. By the staring. She’s my older cousin, d’you know that?” Rhy was wearing bright vermillion, the color of the empire, with his gold circlet too far to one side where it settled atop his head.

_Of course she fucking is._

“Great. I’ll be going-”

“Oh no you won’t. I’ve been watching you wander around like a lost deer all night, you should go have some fun. Go talk to her, Holland!”

He tried to fix an icy stare on the prince but it faltered and he glanced back over the girl, who had not moved. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin.” Was he admitting to that out loud? To Rhy Maresh?

“Ask her if she wants a drink, you dolt. That’s where _I’d_ start. Well, mostly I just have to introduce myself and they start asking me if _I_ want a drink, but you know. If I _weren’t_ me, that’s how I’d start.”

“Rhy, what the hell are you doing?” The voice piped up from Rhy’s other side and Holland actually groaned out loud.

“Kell! I was just helping Holland with a personal problem.”

“Your Highnesses, I must be going-”

“Hang on, wait. What kind of problem?” Kell squinted at him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. He was wearing a faded green shirt fairly similar to Holland’s, actually, in that it had actual sleeves and structure and was terribly out of fashion compared to everyone else, and Holland thought about telling him he looked like an angry lizard just to see what happened. “What kind of personal problem would Holland want _your_ help with?”

“There is no kind of problem I need Rhy’s help with,” Holland said smoothly, trying to detach himself gracefully. “I was merely looking around-”

“Delia. He needs our help to talk to Delia. He likes her.”

“I do not like her, I do not even _know_ her-... her name is Delia?” He glanced back at the woman, who had not moved. Delia suited her. She looked like a Delia, someone pretty and sort of delicate but headstrong, too. He even liked her scowl, which hadn’t budged off her face. Where had he seen a scowl like that before?

“He likes _Delia?_ But she’s always frowning.”

“He likes Delia,” Rhy confirmed, nodding with cheerful importance. “And you’re always frowning, too, I might add.”

“I am not _always frowning.”_

“What else do you ever do, Kell?”

“I smile!”

“When?”

Holland was getting a headache. “You are both children. I have things I need to be doing, I’ll just take my leave-”

“Oh no you won’t,” Rhy grinned at him, all white teeth and shining generous warmth and friendliness, sliding his arm through Holland’s like they were old friends. I wish I had something better than a fork to stab you with, Holland thought helplessly. “We’re going to help you meet her.”

“Rhy! We are not! I’m not helping Holland _meet women_ here!”

“Why not? Are you jealous?”

Kell’s face went as red as his hair and Holland couldn’t stop himself from staring. He hadn’t even known a human face could turn that color. “Of course not! Because he’s… he works for… you know. He’s not… _from here_ ,” Kell finished, in a voice like an injured horse slowly limping over a finish line.

“Oh, Kell,” Rhy said pityingly. “Was that seriously the best you could do? He’s not from here? Neither are half of our guests!”

“Pretty rude reason,” Holland said, enjoying watching Kell’s face twist with anger hearing him. 

“You’re the one who didn’t want Rhy’s help! I’m trying to get you out of it!”

“Oh, be nice. Holland never gets to have any fun.”

“You don’t know that,” Holland said, but his voice sounded flat and unconvincing even to him.

“Of course I do. You come from the _land_ of People Who Never Have Fun. So relax tonight! Kell and I will help you talk to Delia!”

“I will do no such thing,” Kell snapped. “I’m not going to help Holland Vosijk meet _girls_.” Then, with what he probably thought was great dignity and offense, Kell stomped away into the crowd. 

Rhy watched him go with a knowing, amused little smile on his face. “He looks like an angry lizard.”

Holland blinked, turning to look at him in surprise. “I thought the same thing when I saw him.”

“I know. My mother made him wear that shirt, he hates it. You should come to more parties, Holland, it makes him very upset and that amuses me very much. I knew he’d do that, by the way. Stomp off if I asked him to help. Ask me how I know.”

“I really don’t care.”

“Oh, don’t be dull. Ask me how I know.”

Holland sighed. “If I ask you, will you stop talking to me?”

“For about thirty seconds.”

Holland weighed his options. Then, finally, he shrugged. “Fine. How did you know?”

Rhy raised an eyebrow, all mischief and affection. “It’s because he thinks you look _really good_ in your outfit and she’d actually like you a lot-”

A pastry hit Rhy in the side of the head, knocking his circlet onto the floor. Kell’s voice rang out from somewhere nearby, “I could still hear you, you arse! That’s not why!”

The prince was laughing as he picked the gold circlet up off the floor and placed it carefully back onto his head. “That’s _exactly_ why,” He said to Holland with a wink. Holland almost softened under the constant weight of Rhy’s overwhelming friendliness.

Almost.

But he was meant to be here as a spy, not befriending the Maresh princes as if he gave a damn about them.

“Look, just go over there and ask her if she wants a drink. I guarantee she’ll say yes. Then you can talk about, I don’t know, literature or whatever you two might both like. Making frowning faces, as far as I can tell, is nice common interest for you.”

Holland swallowed. “What if… it doesn’t work?”

“Then you can go chat up the redhead making angry faces in the corner. I guarantee it’ll go well if you talk about books with that one.”

Holland fixed Rhy with his absolute driest expression. “The redhead in the corner is _Kell_ , prince.”

Rhy just stared at him expectantly.

“That’s your brother.”

The prince rolled his eyes. “I swear to all things, you and Kell are hopeless. Yes. That is my point. Go chat up. The redhead. In the corner.”

“I don’t even have time to begin explaining to you why I’m not going to do that.” Holland paused. “No, wait. I think I might need to explain that.”

“Then go talk to Delia. She’s dour just like Kell is, you’ll get on like gangbusters. But if you want to know which person in this room has thought the most about what you’d look like with your shirt off…” Rhy grinned. “Well. It’s not me, and it’s not Delia, and you know he’ll never get up the nerves to say anything himself.”

Rhy moved away into the crowd before Holland could throttle him or ask him to elaborate and he wasn’t entirely certain which course of action he’d have taken. He looked at Delia, who had taken up looking exceptionally bored while chatting with someone who appeared to be a distant relative. He looked over at Kell, who was lurking in a shadowy corner glaring daggers at him from across the room.

Finally, he looked over at Rhy, who was standing about twenty feet away, some young man with brown skin and curly brown hair clasped onto his arm. The prince gave him a bright, shining smile and mouthed _you can do this_ with unguarded enthusiasm. Holland thought all of these people should have the ceiling collapse onto their heads, it would be more merciful than living through interacting with them. Maybe he’d just go home now and tell Astrid she didn’t need to rule this kingdom because all of these people were terrible.

No. He couldn't do that, she'd want to know _why_ , and then he'd have to tell her and she'd probably break a rib laughing.

He cleared his throat, looked down at his shoes for a second, took a deep breath, and walked over to the punchbowl, getting two drinks into his hands. He walked across the floor, each step steady, and held out the drink. “Here.”

Kell Maresh scowled up at him. “Did Rhy tell you to bother me?”

“Yes. I thought you could use a drink. You look like a lizard.”

“I hate this shirt. Do I at least look like a _handsome_ lizard?”

“That’s not for me to say.”

Kell looked at the drink as though it might be poisoned, then slowly reached out and took it. “Thank you, anyway, for the drink. I thought you were going to talk to Delia.”

“I was, but... I think I’ll take my leave, Prince.”

“Don’t call me prince, I’m not really one. Go ahead, I won’t stop you.”

“Before I go, can I ask you a question?”

“What?” Kell looked up at him, and for a second some of the defensive anger dropped off of his face, replaced by a simple curiosity he couldn’t quite bury. 

Holland leaned over, and said softly, “Is it true you wonder what I'd look like with my shirt off?”

Watching the color Kell’s face turned made every single second of tonight worth it. Now he looked like an angry green _fish_ with a red face gasping for air.

Holland found himself smiling, very slightly. “Please know that I’m never _ever_ going to stop bringing that up from now on. I'm heading out, princeling. Try not to melt into the floor with embarrassment. Follow me if you want.”

Holland turned smartly on his heels and walked away, leaving Kell sputtering with rage at his back. He headed serenely across the ballroom floor, moving through the doors the guards opened for him, a spot of black in a sea of color. He finished his drink and left it sitting on a side table in a hallway before he headed back out into the night.

Holland Vosijk was smiling so brightly his teeth flashed white in the dark as he headed for the river. 

“I’m going to fucking well _murder you_ ,” Kell hissed at Rhy back in the ballroom. "How could you tell him that?! I told you that in _confidence-_ "

Rhy only grinned. “You should know not to tell me things by now. I’ll bet he hangs around for a while to see if you follow him.”

The brown-haired young man at Rhy's arm blinked, looking back and forth between the two princes. “Who? Is there someone on earth who actually _likes_ your brother?”

“Shut up, _Luc_ ,” Kell snapped. “No one asked you.”

“I know, but my opinions are so deeply important nonetheless. Who’s waiting for Kell?”

“Holland.” Alucard’s face was a question mark. “Oh, you’ve never met him, have you? The Makt _Antari_. I’ll bet you both five gold marks that he goes and waits for Kell at the river.”

Kell hesitated, looking at the door, then back at Rhy. “Why are you so sure he’s at the river?”

Alucard laughed, and Kell ground his teeth together at the sound. “Because it’s fucking _romantic_. Have you _ever_ flirted with anyone before, Kell?”

Kell glared at him. “I could spear you through the chest with a fork without ever moving my hands, Emery.”

“Your brother would die of a broken heart if you did. Then what would life be like?”

“Quiet,” Kell said in a growl. “It would be quiet and no one would tell Holland things like that! Things that aren’t true, anyway!” Kell stomped away. The two of them watched him go right out the doors in the same direction Holland Vosijk had gone.

“The things I told Holland are _absolutely_ true.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Ah… I’ll keep that one between Kell and I. Well, Kell and I and Holland. Honestly, you’d think everyone would just start taking my advice the first time around, I’m so very good at this,” Rhy said thoughtfully. “If I weren’t royalty, I could set myself up as a matchmaker. It’s arguably my finest skill.”

“The finest skill you can use in public, anyway. Raise your bet to ten gold marks that Kell is headed straight for him but absolutely will never admit to either of us that’s what he did,” Alucard said softly. "And that he threatens to kill me if I ask."

“Raise you to fifteen that Holland reciprocates and they never stop insulting each other even in the middle of it,” Rhy murmured, tilting his head as he looked over at him, swallowing against the urge to move in for a kiss.

“Raise to twenty that they get drunk somewhere later, tumble into bed, and pretend they don't remember it in the morning.”

“I'll take your bet. Only because I’m rich as sin and I don’t mind losing. They’re going to spend half the night pissing each other off and the other half doing something very different than that and then, magic willing, I'll get to show Kell how to hide hickeys.”

“He's never had to hide any before?"

"I didn't say that. He's just awful at it and my mother makes _faces_."

"When d’you think he’s going to figure himself out?”

“About five years after everyone else does. Let’s go get a drink, Luc.”

“Your wish is my command, your Highness.”

“ _Any_ of my wishes?” 

“ _Any_ of them.”

([Read this fic by WhatYouKnow_YouKnow for my personal belief on what happens after this, I took inspiration from them!)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19305532)


End file.
